


The Silver Lining

by IssyLily



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV), The Bane Chronicles - Sarah Rees Brennan & Cassandra Clare & Maureen Johnson
Genre: M/M, multi-chapter fic, my attempt at some humour/fluff, will probably descend into angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6439744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IssyLily/pseuds/IssyLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Reaching down, slowly and precisely, he captured the hair between his forefinger and thumb, holding it delicately as one does with a flower petal. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown, and he called out to Magnus, who was preening in the bathroom and applying his eyeliner."</p><p>Alec keeps finding grey hairs, but they're certainly not his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A.K.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=A.K.).



Alec awoke to the sound of running water. He brushed his fingertips across the quilt lying haphazardly over his waist and thighs, and reached for the body that should have been next to him before opening his eyes and realising he was alone. He huffed loudly; even though it had been a decade, and he had no fear of being abandoned or discarded, he still liked waking up next to Magnus every morning. He could open his eyes, and the first vision of the day would be of his face, his serene expression, the unconscious smile that was always beautiful because it was never deliberate. Alec liked watching the Warlock awaken, watch his pupils dilate and relax, his irises almost glimmering like amber in the sunlight. Magnus hated early mornings, and more often than not would groan loudly, berate Alec for waking him ( _“How is it my fault?” “I can feel you staring darling”_ ), before shoving his head underneath his pillows and starting to snore again. Whatever words were exchanged, waking with Magnus by his side, even now, was still a novelty that got Alec through the rest of the day. Nothing bad could happen when there was such joy in the smallest, most intimate moments.

Alec swung out of bed and walked towards the bathroom. He pushed the door open, and the muffled sound of a voice suddenly pierced his ears.

“Magnus, please don't sing in the shower, it frightens the neighbours,” Alec quipped, and there was a squeak as Magnus wiped away the condensation from the shower door in order to see out clearly.

“Don't be jealous darling; just because I was asked to sing first on the karaoke at Simon and Isabelle's wedding,” Magnus replied silkily, staring out at Alec with a lust in his eyes so intense that Alec had no choice but to blush.

“That was four years ago Magnus, and the only reason they asked you was to get you away from Raphael before you tore each other's throats out,” Alec muttered, dipping his head and willing his cheeks to lose their beetroot stain.

“Hush now Alexander,” Magnus admonished, and Alec grinned at him, knowing he was in the right. “Why Vampires decide to drink when they know they can't hold their liquor...”

Alec strode up the shower and pulled the door open. Years ago, the act would have been unthinkable; he had never believed he could be so comfortable around another human being. He smirked at the shampoo in Magnus' hair and leaned against the side of the door.

“You and I both know that the Bloody Mary's were your idea,” Alec said, quasi-reprimanding, arms crossed over his holey t-shirt, “You were curious about the effects of mixing blood and vodka together.”

“And a very interesting experiment it was,” Magnus replied smartly, although any attempt at acting superior was gone alongside his clothing.

Alec gave thought to the idea, and a half-appreciative nod of the head, and said, “Maybe not at a wedding next time though.”

“My curiosity had to be sated my dear,” Magnus replied, turning away from Alec for a moment to grab one of thousands of different pots and lotions he had somehow crammed into their atypical shower space. Alec shook his head, laughing to himself in the knowledge that Magnus would always find a way to be inappropriate and get away with it. He still now found himself chuckling over the phrase _free-wheeling bisexual._

“Well?” Magnus asked as Alec gazed off into space.

“Well what?” Alec echoed, moving slightly to the right to avoid the spray coming from the shower.

Magnus grinned and it was electric.

“Are you getting in or not?”

Half an hour later, and ironically both sweatier and more worked up than they had been before, Alec and Magnus tumbled out of the shower and back into their bedroom. Knowing he had to be at the Institute in an hour for training – his mother and father had reclaimed the Institute after the Dark War, and he was still honour bound to work alongside them – Alec tore himself away from Magnus' soft hands, and got dressed, despite the Warlock's complaints. In dark trousers, a long sleeved shirt, and black combat boots, Alec shoved his old t-shirt under his pillow, when something caught the attention of the corner of his eye.

Reaching down, slowly and precisely, he captured the hair between his forefinger and thumb, holding it delicately as one does with a flower petal. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown, and he called out to Magnus, who was preening in the bathroom and applying his eyeliner.

“Magnus, why is there a grey hair in our bed?”

It certainly wasn't his – Lightwood men never went grey until their fifties, and Alec was still a few years from his thirties.

Magnus appeared in the door of the bathroom, and if Alec was less dazed he would have noticed how he blanched.

“I don't know darling,” Magnus said, eyeliner dripping onto the tiled floor from where he held the brush in his hand, “Maybe somebody was in here the last time we had a party.”

“But you always cast protection runes over our bedroom,” Alec said confusedly, dropping the hair to the carpet, almost talking to himself, “And the last party we had here was about four months ago.”

“Hair doesn't decay Alexander,” Magnus replied as he puckered his lips in front of his mirror, “It's probably one of the lycanthropes; you know how they shed.”

Alec nodded his head subconsciously, and when Magnus sauntered out of the bathroom three minutes later, Alec was given a reason to forget all about it.


	2. The Takeaway

_What a day_ , Alec grimaced internally as he pushed the front door of his and Magnus' apartment open and stumbled in. His left shoulder was still bleeding quite profusely, and there was a bruise blossoming over his top lip that he hadn't had time to fix yet. He dropped like an anchor onto the sofa and let his seraph blade fall to the floor.

He was exhausted; he wasn't as young as he had once been. Demon hunts were still frequent – though he supposed complaints were completely unjustifiable after the events of his childhood – and although there were younger Shadowhunters who were usually assigned these duties, sometimes there was no one else available.

Fighting with his parabatai made it easier, Alec mused as he drew a healing rune onto his arm with his stele, but even Jace had gotten a little sloppier after passing twenty five. It was excusable really – they had both surpassed the mid-point of their lives, given how Shadowhunters rarely turned forty. Neither of them trained as frequently as they had as teenagers – there was barely enough hours in the day for it, amongst diplomatic meetings, dealing with children (well, that was an issue confined to Jace), and being married to one of the most dramatic men on this plane of existence (an issue delightfully confined to Alec).

“Alexander, darling, you look awful!” Magnus exclaimed, kneeling by Alec's side to inspect the damage, as had become their usual evening routine.

“I'm fine Magnus,” Alec said, although he wished he was alert enough that his words wouldn't turn into syllable smoothies. He batted away the fingers that were touching his raw upper lip, but didn't complain when they were replaced by a warm and familiar mouth. He felt a brief flash of heat and knew that Magnus had removed the bruise – although the way his lips were moving, it seemed it wouldn't be staying away for too long.

“I still worry about you every day you silly Nephilim,” Magnus murmured into his mouth, his eyes still closed, “Even if it's just a scrape. It's still a horrible warning that you're always putting yourself in danger, always putting your life at risk.”

Alec broke away, and looked into Magnus' eyes – eyes that seemed to be made of starlight - and smiled. He brushed his fingertip along Magnus' cheekbone, and reached out for his hand, which was weighted down with ornate rings.

“And I know you'll always be here to patch me up,” he replied gently, moving his thumb in concentric circles against Magnus' palm. He was no longer bothered by Magnus' immortality, and frankly, was rather embarrassed by the show he had made when he had been a kid; Alec's mortality, however, was a constant concern for both of them. Magnus always made it very clear that he disapproved of Alec's 'recklessness', and Alec could not bear even the briefest thought that his death would mean Magnus being alone again. It was a difficult situation, made worse by the fact that Alec knew his age would start to show soon. He loved Magnus – there was no being or power in the Heavens or the fiery pits of Hell that would separate them, and they had proved that far too literally for anyone to joke about it – but the thought of one day being mistaken for his father, or even his grandfather, broke his heart.

But it was a future that was years away. Alec shook his head imperceptibly, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that settled in his mind like dirt on his skin, and looked at Magnus who was chuckling to himself.

“Well that's certainly true,” Magnus said, although his tone was almost bittersweet. The moment lingered quietly between them before Alec heaved his body into a sitting position, and Magnus rose from his knees to his feet.

“Do you want Chinese or Indian for dinner?” he asked softly, heading towards the kitchen.

Alec's stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and he called out his order; within thirty seconds, he held it in his hands, and dove in with a fork. For the longest time, it had irked him that his boyfriend was so at ease with stealing from the various cafes and restaurants around New York. Then he had ordered a Cappuccino in Starbucks, and almost yelled at the extortionate prices these Mundanes charged. After that, he had relaxed a little, until he didn't care at all.

He saved their lives on nearly a daily basis, never revealing his identity, or asking for any credit; it warranted the odd free pizza.

Magnus rolled his eyes at the sight of him twirling his fork as he sank into the sofa, and expertly commanded his chopsticks.

“You're so American Alexander,” Magnus scoffed, and Alec stopped shovelling food down his throat long enough to reply, “Some of us haven't had enough time to learn and practise the ancient art of eating with chopsticks, Grandpa.”

Magnus lifted a bare foot from the floor and kicked Alec in the ribs, though not hard enough to do any sort of damage. Alec made a wounded face and grinned back.

“I can play it on the piano though,” Alec mused aloud, and Magnus looked highly amused.

“What dangerous exploits did you get up to today then Alexander?” Magnus asked through mouthfuls of katsu curry, “Detain any unruly Downworlders? Enforce any of your ridiculous Clave laws? Save any damsels in distress?”

He had the audacity to wink, and Alec realised this was the man he had chosen to love. He laughed out loud.

“No, no, and no,” he replied, “Jace and I got sent out to hunt down some loose Moloch demon that somehow wound up in a busy subway. It's not a higher level demon or anything, just a minion really, but trying to kill it whilst keeping civilians safe was a bit of a challenge. Plus Jace's Glamour wore off when he got stung and this shrill woman kept asking him for photos and saying she couldn't believe she had met Ryan Gosling-”

“Jace does not look like Ryan Gosling,” Magnus interrupted, spilling rice onto the settee.

“Who _is_ that?” Alec asked curiously, the event having bugged him all day, and Magnus leaned in and said, “Let's just say, if Jace looked anything like him, I would be having this conversation with a different Lightwood entirely.”

Alec scooped at his food with all the grace of a drunken freshman and shook his head. “You're incorrigible,” he protested lightly and Magnus grinned, stretching across the sofa and touching his lips against Alec's nose.

“But he doesn't. So lucky, lucky me, I have you instead Alexander,” he whispered in a deeper tone than usual, and placed his takeaway box on the unit in the middle of their living room.

“Magnus,” Alec said breathily as said Warlock began to slide his mouth against his neck, “Magnus, you're wonderful, and I love you...”

Magnus took Alec's food and dumped it next to his, and crawled on top of him, pining him to the sofa with his thighs, kissing the hollow of his throat. The sensation of Magnus' teeth against the thin layer of skin there made Alec shiver, and goosebumps rose up uncontrollably on his arms in reaction.

“And you know, Alexander, that flattery will get you anywhere and everywhere,” Magnus said, cutting Alec off before he could finish his sentence. The Shadowhunter certainly wasn't complaining, especially when Magnus cupped his cheek with his right hand and kissed him deeply (though his mouth tasted like chicken and red wine, and it was a little disorientating). Wandering hands soon led to Alec becoming incredibly flustered and he managed to pipe up the words, “Magnus, I love you, but I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm _starving_.”

In a display of solidarity, his stomach rumbled at that exact moment, and Magnus broke away gently, smiling, though he looked more than a little put out.

“No, no, I understand,” he said mockingly, though humour lay just below the surface, “Your stomach is more important than the love of your life, I get it.” He held his hands up in surrender, and Alec kissed his cheek.

“I knew you'd get it, _darling_ ,” he replied, chuckling.

Magnus looked affronted. “I think I'm beginning to rub off on you – not that that wasn't what I was trying to do earlier.”

Alec made a face and retrieved his fork and dinner.

“No innuendos whilst we're eating, new rule. I don't want anyone to start choking,” Alec murmured, stuffing noodles into his mouth in an attempt to stop his stomach complaining.

“Oh I don't know,” Magnus smiled darkly, swinging his legs into Alec's lap and leaving them there, “It's not all bad when-”

Alec cut him off and rolled his eyes again, “What did I just say Magnus?”

“You're the boss,” Magnus replied, reprimanded, and tucked into his curry, all the while using most of his brain power to prevent his lips from curling into a massive grin.

Alec's contented smile suddenly turned to a moue as he suddenly reached into his mouth, and pulled something out of it.

“Magnus, where did you get this food from?” Alec asked in distaste, holding the object of his disgust in his palm, shielded from the Warlock's view.

Magnus frowned too - “Taki's, the usual. Why, what's wrong with it?”

“There's a grey hair in my chow mein,” Alec said sadly, and Magnus almost dropped his own box onto the carpet.

“I should ring and complain, that's terribly unsanitary,” Magnus garbled, getting to his feet and scurrying across the apartment to grab his mobile from their bedroom, “If you have a hair in your food then the Angel knows what might be in mine.” He caught himself with that expression – he had started to pick it up after being around Alec for so long. He thought it was almost sentimental, though Catarina always made fun of him for it.

“Magnus you can't call and complain about food that you _stole_ ,” Alec said before Magnus hit the dial tone, “It's like breaking into someone's house and complaining that they only have non-fat yoghurt and no cable TV.”

Magnus considered it for a moment, and then put his phone down. He glanced at his own meal, and threw both his and Alec's into the bin without a second thought. Alec protested, but only for a second.

“Sorry darling,” Magnus said wickedly, “But it appears you're the only thing left on the menu. And you're not the only one who's _starving_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, the mystery continues...


	3. The Balcony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got away from me a little...I hope you guys don't mind too much (!)
> 
> (PS A character pops up in this chapter and they may be a little OOC because I've only ever read about them in other fanfictions? I don't remember them from TMI series, so forgive me if the characterisation is weak).
> 
> (PPS I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story so far! I know this is supposed to be humorous but I specialize in angst so again, forgive me. Whilst writing this, I was listening to the song Aladdin Sane by David Bowie, so I would recommend it in some form)

_Magnus had a lovely mouth_ , Alec thought to himself as he stared, having given up trying to overhear what his boyfriend was saying over the almost-inhuman racket. They rarely went for dinner in Mundane restaurants, but ever since the end of the Dark War, Alec had been attracting even more attention than Magnus, to their joint chagrin (although Alec knew his boyfriend was more-than-slightly offended at being passed over so often), and sometimes all he wanted was some privacy. Here, all they had to worry about was people staring at them; Magnus usually said it was because they were an illegally-attractive couple, but Alec thought it was rather more to do with Magnus' fuchsia highlights, or his plum velvet suit, or whichever of his more outrageous attire he had dressed himself in. Alec didn't mind – he had grown fond of Magnus' style, despite the eye-rolls and disapproving looks he put on so Magnus didn't think he was getting soft.

Alec shifted slightly in his chair, leaning back and crossing his arms, although he took care to maintain an expression of deep interest. During a pause, which Alec assumed was the aftermath of a question, he nodded, and said, “Oh yeah, completely”, and then nodded again for emphasis. Magnus seemed satisfied, and carried on talking. Alec was relieved to be honest – he loved speaking with Magnus, and a conversation with him was guaranteed to never be dull, but sometimes he missed having space to himself. He just needed time to be inside his own head, to not have to respond to outside stimuli – he needed moments just to be quiet. The bustling restaurant roared with noise, but it was easy to block it all out and have a few seconds of calm and near-tranquillity (or as near as he would ever get, he supposed).

“Alexander, are you listening to a word I'm saying?” Magnus asked loudly, and Alec's hand slipped from under his chin, startled. Magnus chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the floor. “No of course you weren't you silly boy,” he said fondly, stroking the back of Alec's hand, black nails contrasting against Alec's pale skin.

“I'm sorry Magnus,” Alec admitted, “I can't hear a word you're saying in here. There are so many people; it's like being at the zoo.”

“It does seem that way sometimes,” Magnus replied, looking around, judging through his cat-like eyes that glimmered in the candlelight, “Mundanes have no sense of sophistication – there's no grace or glamour or decorum to their movements and their speech.

“I'm glad we're a little further up the evolutionary scale,” Magnus finished a little triumphantly.

Alec grimaced a little. “Now _you_ sound like the Clave,” he said sternly, and Magnus clapped a hand to his chest in offence. Alec had to smile, but he had almost meant it. Both he and Magnus were half-Mundane after all; they couldn't afford to start condemning themselves.

“If you had been listening to what I was saying before, you would know that I am absolutely nothing like your Clave, darling,” Magnus replied haughtily, though Alec knew his mood wouldn't last long. Magnus had lived so long that he barely held onto changes in his mood anymore – frustration lasted a few hours, anger a few minutes, and insult a few seconds. Were he not Magnus Bane, Alec would say he barely had an ego for it was injured so infrequently. He was so content in himself that Alec found himself jealous sometimes.

“Well would you care to elaborate?” Alec asked delicately, having learnt that the bluntness of his youth wasn't appreciated by most people, especially Magnus.

Magnus took a swill of red wine, and leaned forward.

“I was talking about your ridiculous marriage laws,” Magnus replied plainly, “And the continuation of that nonsense about banning inter-species unions.”

Alec squirmed in his seat a little; he knew that the newest Accords had already been criticised by representatives from all four factions involved for once again ensuring the superiority of Shadowhunters over Downworlders. Ten years ago it had all been set to change, but such changes were slow in the making, and after the memory of the brutality of the War had faded and dwindled in its importance, the significance of the union of the four Shadow World species had followed suit.

Alec completely agreed that it was nonsense – but he squirmed nonetheless, because it was his father who had been chief in creating the new legislature. Oh, he had accepted his son and his relationship, but he still didn't like it. Alec had begun to fear he never would; Magnus, with his boat-load of daddy-issues told him Robert didn't matter, but he did to Alec.

Magnus looked him in the eye, and Alec could have sworn he saw something like a tear beginning to smudge the wing of Magnus' eyeliner. The Warlock kissed him on the back of his hand and whispered, “I would marry you tomorrow, if I could.”

Alec's throat tightened, but he squeezed Magnus' hand, and kissed him tenderly.

“I know we don't speak about marriage,” Magnus continued, “I know it's- it's not possible right now.”

His voice was a blend of resentment, bitterness, and uttermost heartbreak, and Alec hated every damn member of the Clave in that moment.

“Maybe one day,” Alec replied, his voice hoarse but strong.

He didn't know why he was so terrified by the idea – he and Magnus had lived together for well over a decade, and both of them knew this was an until-Alec's death-do-we-part kind of thing anyway, but Alec couldn't stop his hands from convulsing. Maybe marriage made it wholly official. Maybe it being official would bring the world crashing down around Magnus when he was gone.

“Magnus?!” came a loud, excited voice, and Alec broke contact in order to search the horizon for the intruder.

A woman he recognised instantly came into view, her blue skin like a warm summer sky, and her silver hair like the clouds that threatened to ruin it. Catarina Loss was dressed in a white shirt and slacks, and in shoes that looked curiously like the ones Magnus had lost well over two months ago.

(Alec was too well-acquainted with Magnus' wardrobe for his own liking).

“Catarina, my dear, how are you?” Magnus asked, ever the showman, standing up and kissing her on either cheek, and offering her a chair at their table. Alec nodded stoically at her – he liked her, sure, she was kind and competent, but she had interrupted a conversation that Alec really thought he and Magnus needed to have.

“I've been stood up by my date, so I'm not wonderful,” Catarina bemoaned, taking Magnus' fork and eating some of the tortellini off of his plate absent-mindedly, “But he was too short and had a horrific haircut, so it's not much of a loss.”

For the second time that night, Alec started to tune out the conversation, choosing to capture a few minutes of relaxation whilst he could, before he picked out a sentence that really shook him.

“Did you ever replace that awful couch that we broke the last time I was around your apartment?” Catarina asked, leaning in closely to Magnus – Alec wasn't normally a jealous person; he had always accepted that he was destined to have and do some things and not others, but there was something in the way she asked, something almost scandalous about her question.

Magnus shot a look at Alec across the table and cleared his throat loudly, coughing, and taking a large gulp of his wine. Catarina looked at the object of his attention and leaned backwards into her own seat, her blue skin deepening to the sky at dusk as she did.

“I had it repaired,” Magnus replied offhandedly, snapping his fingers and filling his glass with more wine. He seemed determined not to look at Catarina, and instead was studying Alec's face, which he was more than certain was flushed bright red. He didn't know what to think, until Catarina brushed a stray strand of her steel hair away from her face, and his stomach seemed to drop out of his body and onto the floor below them.

By the Angel, he was going to be sick.

Common sense told him he was being ridiculous – that Magnus and Catarina had been friends for centuries, and nothing had ever happened before, so why would it happen now, and a million other rational thoughts – but the logic he had tried to live his life in adherence to was out of line with how his heart seemed to gasp and hyperventilate instead his chest.

Magnus seemed to notice Alec's pained expression, and painted a false smile across his face.

“Well, it was a pleasure to see you as ever, my dear, but myself and Alexander must be getting home. It's getting rather late,” he added plaintively, and Catarina nodded quickly in response.

“Absolutely Magnus.” She turned to Alec, and smiled compassionately, and he thought it looked rather like the smile you give to someone who's knocking on death's door. “It was lovely to see you again Alec; until the next time.”

Alec watched her leave the restaurant, skimming through the tables as if she were a ghost, and found himself unable to stare Magnus in the face.

If this was what was happening, would he ever be able to look at him again? Alec felt so _stupid_.

Instead of walking home, Magnus took them down a dark alley and created a portal to their apartment. Alec had been chasing peace and quiet all evening, but now he felt more alone than he ever had during his and Magnus' time together. The insecure eighteen-year-old he had buried years ago seemed to be rising from his grave, and he couldn't suppress him for much longer.

“Alexander, are you sure you're alright?” Magnus asked concernedly, as he locked the door behind them. Alec strode into the middle of the open-plan living space, and his mouth crossed the finish line before his brain heard the shot starter-pistol.

“Will you marry me then Magnus?” he asked, half-furious, half-hysterical, “You talked about it earlier, and I love you, and neither of us care what the Clave thinks, so will you marry me?”

If this were a film, he would be hopping from foot to foot, but Alec remained deadly still. He didn't know what he hoped to achieve, if anything. What the _hell_ was wrong with him?

Magnus stared at him as if he were a complex riddle he was struggling to comprehend, some foreign language that he should be able to read but was struggling to get past the first word.

“Alec, of course I'll marry you, but is that what you want? You seem a little...agitated.”

It was the care and concern in his voice, the comfort that Alec had sought so many times in the past, that really made his stomach turn.

“I'm fine,” he snapped, harsher than he had intended – and far harsher than someone who had just proposed should have sounded, “I'm going to sit out on the balcony for a while.”

“It's raining darling,” Magnus remarked, moving forward towards Alec, but it seemed there was a distance, a barrier, between them that could not be breached as Alec moved backwards at the same pace.

“I just need some air,” he murmured, alongside something that could have been an apology, he wouldn't know. He gasped in the fresh oxygen the moment he stepped out of the room, and sank down to the ground, slipping his legs between the railings of their balcony, and staring out at the city.

If Magnus ever paid it, his rent would be extortionate. The view of New York City they had from this balcony was almost comparable to that which could be obtained from the top of the Empire State building, and it was so romantic that it made Alec's heart splinter.

What was he doing? What had he done? What had he _said_? It had been said off the back of a doubt, and the more time that passed out here, the more closely Alec considered the evidence laid before him. There was barely any at all; he had reacted as if the world itself was ending, and he had nothing to show for why he thought so. He felt so silly and petty and tiny.

He sat outside for an indeterminable amount of time, feeling rather sorry for himself, and progressively becoming colder and colder, until he felt a sudden warmth engulfing him. Magnus draped the quilt around his shoulders, and slid down next to him, his feet hanging two hundred feet above the ground next to Alec's.

“Alec, if there's something wrong, I need you to tell me,” Magnus said thickly, and it occurred to Alec that he wasn't the only one who could feel hurt. He felt a stab of guilt in his stomach, and he stared out on the horizon, too ashamed to face Magnus right now. “There's nothing I can do, if you won't talk to me.”

He reached for Alec's frozen hand, and flooded him with heat; his palm was sweaty in seconds, but he did not want Magnus to let go.

“I'm sorry,” he finally said, still avoiding eye contact, “I'm sorry for acting like an idiot, and being dramatic, and for...proposing, I don't know why I did that.

“I'm just...trying to work through some things right now, and it all kind of exploded out at the wrong time,” Alec finished lamely, knowing he was keeping more information than he was giving, but he was still confused about how to proceed. Luckily, Magnus got there first.

He shuffled closer to Alec, and pulled the quilt over the both of them, cocooning them together. He rested his head on his shoulder, and Alec subconsciously acknowledged it, leaning his head to the side. They stared out at the same sunset, and watched as the night sky turned to spilt ink over their heads.

 _This was how it was meant to be_ , Alec thought. _This was how they were always supposed to be_. He kissed the top of Magnus' head, and whispered a thousand silent apologies to him, hoping that somehow the Warlock would be able to read his mind.

“It's okay,” Magnus murmured, his voice smooth as the velvet of his trousers, “It's okay. I've had volatile reactions to things in the past, I think every living creature has. It's nothing to be ashamed of Alexander. I just want you to always know that I'm here. I'm here forever.”

Alec kissed him under their quilt, and Magnus hummed into his mouth.

“Although I don't think I've ever proposed to someone in a fit of anger,” Magnus said, his voice already light, and Alec wondered how he could laugh so easily when his heart was clenching with regret, and no small amount of humiliation.

“I'm so sorry Magnus, this isn't how I wanted to do it,” Alec replied sadly, and Magnus brushed his thumb over the contour of Alec's upper lip. He seemed a little dazed, as if his thoughts were flying away into the night sky to join the stars above them. He snapped out of his reverie soon after, and kissed Alec with a longing and a want meant for lovers long parted.

“Alexander Lightwood,” Magnus said quietly, so close to Alec's lips that he could feel his exhalations of breath as he pronounced each syllable of his name, “Love of my life. The man who gave me reason to live, not just to survive.”

Alec knew where he was going, and was enraptured.

“I have loved you for ten years, and I will love you for a thousand more after you're gone, and I promise that I will look up every night for the rest of my life, and I will find you amongst those stars, and be glad that I was privileged enough to know you, and to love you.”

At the word 'love', Alec closed the small gap between them and clutched at Magnus' lips. However long they had left – sixty years, seventy – suddenly felt too short a time. Alec could feel his life ending, feared being parted from this man, and held on with all he had. He wouldn't let him go. Never again.

“And it doesn't hurt that you're an excellent kisser,” Magnus laughed, “And far better than Michelangelo ever was.” He winked conspicuously, and pulled a box from his pocket.

“I know I said earlier of how backwards humankind seem to me, but I find their quaint little traditions rather endearing, and you and I both know I cannot be Marked with one of your wedding runes.

“So-” he paused, and opened the black box, “I thought this would do nicely.”

Magnus slid the silver band up Alec's finger, and leaned back a little to admire it in what was its rightful place. Alec was speechless.

“But I suppose I should probably ask you, even though we've been through it already this evening,” Magnus said, with a polarized air of confidence and vulnerability that only Alec ever got to see, “Would you marry me, my dear?”

The quilt had soaked through and his hair was plastered to his face, and Magnus' make-up was running down his face in rivulets, and Alec had never seen or heard anything more beautiful in his life.

“Yes...yes.”

He could say it a thousand times, and the exhilaration would never abandon him. The thin band of silver felt as much a part of him as his fingers, his ears, his toes; he had been incomplete until this evening. Magnus was the other half of his soul, the only person in his life who he truly understood, to whom he could reveal every part of his battered but still beaming soul. And it was no matter if the rest of his life passed in the blink of an eye, for he would have spent it with Magnus, and there was no other person in all of creation who he would rather live it alongside. Joy compounded smacked him in the face and Alec laughed loudly for all of the world to hear. He kissed Magnus with a rapture that could not be spoiled, a realisation that could not be overturned, and an ecstasy that could never be forced to dwindle into anything less than sheer adoration and _love_.

Not even by the silver hair lying motionless on the sofa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I hate me for that last line too
> 
> "It's for the good of the story," she sobbed...


	4. The Institute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that in some cases, suspicion and doubt are more powerful emotions in a relationship than love.
> 
> Alec finally talks out his issues...but not with Magnus.

Alec grunted in frustration at his sixth wayward arrow, and repressed the urge to throw a small tantrum, and snap his quiver over his knee. The target that had been set up still remained completely unmarked – forget amateur, his practice today was downright laughable; he hadn't shot this poorly since he was eleven, and even then he had managed to strike the white outer ring.

He was sure Jace would be laughing at him right now if he hadn't gotten used to Alec's subtle nuances over the years; his younger brother had matured in ways none of the Lightwoods had ever believed to be possible, although he had retained his arrogance (though it was more sardonic than serious nowadays). Jace had always cared about other people, especially his family, but ever since his and Clary's first daughter had been born, he had worn his heart on his sleeve for the entire world to see, glamours be damned.

Jace thumped Alec on the back, and he dipped his head towards the floor.

“What is wrong with you today man?” Jace asked sympathetically, and for all of his desire to push the issue to the back of his mind and get on with his training, Alec knew it was better to be out in the open with his problems. He had learnt that the hard way.

Alec licked his lips nervously, and turned to face his parabatai.

“Do you think Magnus is cheating on me?” he asked impassionately, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could restrain them into a less paranoid statement.

Jace raised his eyebrows.

“No, and you don't either,” he replied flatly, turning back around to throw a blade across the training room and straight through the heart of the mannequin they used for practice.

Alec stood and watched, and remained silent – he didn't know quite what to say. He knew Jace had to be right, but his hands were twitching and he was on edge from having not slept for a few days, ever since he had separated chance from coincidence, and then coincidence from a pattern. He had twisted his silver engagement band around his finger so furiously that the skin was tender and bleeding, and he couldn't stop fidgeting. Magnus' proposal had been perfect, but in the cold light of day, it wasn't enough to shake his neurosis that something was amiss – and then he had seen the silver hair on the couch. He was a Shadowhunter after all, and three times was not quite the charm in this case.

Jace huffed, and turned back to Alec.

“Why do you think he would Alec? After all you guys went through – I mean, Clary and I thought we were bad with the whole incest thing, but you two...everything was against you-” he paused, and frowned, his lips falling into a grimace, “- I mean you still can't even get married, but you got engaged anyway, you carried on defying all of these stupid Clave rules. So why would he do it?”

Alec's head was starting to hurt. Everything Jace said was making sense, and he felt like a fool and a traitor for even beginning to doubt Magnus. There was such pain in believing his trust had been broken, and a deeper hurt that came with being kept in the dark. He might have been blind to the intricacies of relationships when he and Magnus had begun so many years ago, but he knew that Magnus was hiding something from him, but he hated himself for assuming the worst.

“It's really stupid, I shouldn't...shouldn't have mentioned it,” Alec said, faltering in the middle, but finishing strongly. He put his bow and quiver back into the storage facility with a little too much force, and made for the door, but Jace stopped him.

“Alec, I know you. You wouldn't make a fuss if there was nothing to it,” he said empathetically, and Alec was suddenly struck with memories of the Jace who had ignored the older boys' blatant feelings towards him for years on end, who had ignored the signs of his attraction to Magnus, who had ignored his self-loathing, or mistaken it for solitude. That boy had died alongside his father. Alec was grateful that they still stood shoulder to shoulder as brothers.

“I keep finding grey hairs in our apartment,” Alec said, and his uncertainty was plain.

Jace smirked just a little, but stopped, and cleared his throat when he saw his parabatai's expression.

“Like the one coming out of your head right now?” Jace asked condescendingly, reaching forward, seemingly to pull something out of Alec's skull. However, his easy grin was stopped dead when the hair came loose freely.

“Okay, _so_ , they're not yours,” Jace said quietly, flicking the hair to the ground and taking a few steps back. Despite the tremors that arose in his stomach almost instantly, Alec let out a smile that seemed to shout _I-told-you-so._

“Are you sure they're not Magnus'?” Jace continued quickly, never one to relish in his own embarrassment for too long a time.

Alec frowned in frustration and shook his head. “I'm sure – he hasn't had a grey hair in four centuries, or however many years he's lived; by the Angel I don't think even _he_ knows how old he is exactly... It wouldn't make any sense for him to start getting them now.”

Jace paced in front of him for a little while, and then suddenly cried, “Well, I know that Clary found a few white hairs the week before she found out she was pregnant the first time around.”

“No, I don't think that's it Jace,” Alec said, deadpan, raising an eyebrow, and crossing his arms across his chest.

“I don't mean it like that Alec, by the Angel, I'm not stupid,” Jace replied shortly, “I mean Clary had pretty bad morning sickness, so, you know, could Magnus have picked up something? Can Warlocks even get sick?”

The world seemed to stop turning and Alec flushed deeply.

“I don't know...I never thought to stop and ask,” he said lightly, as if he had been winded, and all of the breath in his body vanished. He strode across the room to the bench situated next to the ring they used for seraph and combat training, and dropped down onto it. Immeasurable remorse swallowed him up and digested him whole. It had been a decade, and he had never stopped to question it – how selfish could Magnus think him to be? He had made such a drama of his own mortality, his own safety, and yet never truly considered the risks to Magnus. He had always thought of him as indestructible, a universal constant.

Jace backtracked almost immediately.

“Come on man, you walk from your apartment to the Institute daily – how many people do you pass on your way here and back? It's just a few hairs. Stop worrying about it,” Jace said, but his flurry of words made little to no impact on Alec, who was feeling rather dizzy.

“By the Angel, could you blame him if he was cheating on me?” Alec asked desperately, willing his eyes to not fill with pointless tears, “I never even bothered to ask him the simplest things.”

Jace settled down next to him and patted Alec's knee.

“Yes I would blame him,” Jace replied, his voice low and even. He looked Alec in the eye and smiled, “You two are like chocolate and vanilla; when you're apart, one is too rich, and the other too bland, but together, you balance each other out, you're perfect. You guys were made for each other; he's not an idiot. And he knows what Izzy would do to him if that was the case.”

“So I'm vanilla in your analogy then?” Alec asked, offended, and Jace rolled his eyes. Trust Alec to miss the goddamn point.

“Shut up Alec, you know I'm right,” Jace said exasperatedly, elbowing his parabatai, “So what? You didn't ask him if he could get ill. Now you've found four grey hairs. Whoop-dee-do. It's _nothing_.

“You better get that bow and arrow back out again and start training _properly_ – I do not want to get stuck with some Ravener demon down a dark alley, and have you shooting stray cats instead of its eyeballs. Clary's made some sort of fish pie and I'll be damned if I'm dead before I get to eat it,” he ribbed lightly, and seeing a brief smile on Alec's face lifted his spirits slightly. He hated seeing his brother so anxious – it was like reliving the noughties.

“You might not be alive for long after though,” Alec retorted quickly, and Jace grinned.

“I wouldn't say that to Clary's face, she might throw it at you,” Jace replied, grinning widely.

“Wouldn't that be a way to go though?” Alec pondered aloud, “Fight off two of the most evil men in our history, and get taken out by some dodgy fish.”

“Don't worry, she stopped taking cooking lessons from Isabelle after the fourth bout of food poisoning, so we should be safe,” Jace reassured. Alec smiled, and Jace bumped shoulders with him.

“If you're that bothered, just ask Magnus about it,” Jace proffered as a last resort, knowing there was little else he could do or say, “Just _ask_ him.”

Alec nodded solemnly, and the next time he notched and released an arrow, he struck red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so we're nearly there!! 
> 
> I always envisioned that Jace and Clary would have three daughters? God knows why but that's the way I always saw their little family.


	5. The Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is Lady Grinning Soul, again by David Bowie.
> 
> The truth will out.

Neither of them could sleep.

The curtains of their bedroom were wide open, the full glare of the New York City skyline beaming into their room, the light as bright as an angel falling from the sky.

Both lay on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, unable to look at one another. Alec had pins and needles in his foot, and Magnus was repressing the deep-seated desire to turn onto his side and try and rest. But sleep seemed inconsequential when they were falling apart.

Alec would sleep when he was dead. Magnus would have to wait a little longer, but he would do the same one day.

They had run out of words to say to one another nearly a week ago.

It seemed so bizarre to Magnus, to watch the neon rays from one of a million billboards bounce off of the silver of Alec's ring, and think that all of this could somehow come to an end.

He was a Warlock, not a magician - he couldn't read Alec's mind. They were lovers, but he couldn't read his body. Alec, who had been so transparent and honest with him, was now opaque; the boy he had loved had become as hollow as the vacuum of space. Magnus felt blind. He wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, lay his palm against the harsh jut of his cheekbones, and yet he couldn't. He didn't feel like he _should_. It was like lying in bed next to a corpse – Alec was completely still; the only reassurance of his life was the almost deafening beat of his heart. Magnus couldn't even permit himself to look at him. There was destruction and devastation in even the briefest glimpse of Alexander Lightwood's face. Magnus had always been proud of his self-preservation, but it seemed he was still a novice when it came to falling in love. And yet how could he have prevented this hurt? He had lived through four hundred years to look into Alec's eyes and realise _yes, it's you, I've been waiting for_ _ **you**_. Naively, he had thought soul-mates were forever.

Alec exhaled and Magnus' eyes stung fiercely. When had it gotten this far?

Was this too far to come back from?

Magnus had always been a lover, not a fighter. And yet in the past, faced with the prospect of losing Alec, he knew he would be willing to enter a battle with Death himself to keep him. But when their words had failed them, all of Magnus' energy and spirit had washed away like a chalk painting in the rain. He felt no fire, no passion, no rage – only a lethargy, a tiredness, a heaviness that seemed to clutch at his ankles and hold him to the ground.

This was probably what it was to die.

Magnus had always known, from almost the moment they had met, that he would not be able to live without Alec. It was just happening earlier than he had assumed it would.

He deserved it, he thought. He had been an addict, and his supply had run out. He cursed himself for becoming so dependent on another person, but then angrily dared his past self not to fall totally, completely, irreversibly in love with Alec Lightwood. It was impossible. The Bible wrote that Lucifer leapt out of the Promised Land to escape God's reign, but really, Magnus thought he probably Fell for the love of a being so divine that even the opalescent Heavens themselves could not compare.

Like Lucifer though, Magnus had missed his mark, and accidentally slipped into Hell instead.

He wondered how much time they had left. The irony of it all was unbearable.

The worst thing about it though, was that Magnus was going to let him go. He would never regret loving Alec, and maybe one day the pain would be worth the golden years they had shared together. But tonight all he wanted to do was drive a knife through his chest and just be done with it.

Oh, you could definitely live too long, he had no doubt of that.

Mere inches away, Alec mused on how he had let this happen. It was never meant to become so...hostile, so void of any emotion. But he felt distrust eating away at him. Magnus _knew_ that he knew something had happened – they weren't stupid - but neither of them could bring themselves to talk about it first, and that lack of communication, that unwillingness to share, was broaching the space between them and stretching it at an alarming rate. Magnus was so warm next to him, and Alec's hands were so cold, and he couldn't bear to leave him. But what other option did they have now? Maybe this was one step too far, one mountain they couldn't climb together.

By the Angel, he felt like shouting out loud and tearing the Heavens open, ripping the Angels out, and damning them to the same mortal life he had been cursed with.

He would wait for Magnus to sleep, and then he would go, Alec told himself finally. But as the sky turned candyfloss pink outside, and the Warlock's eyes remained wide open and staring above, Alec's resolve weakened. He didn't want to give up, but he felt so empty. So lost.

The time was 5AM, and that's all he was sure of in the world.

He heard the bedsheets ruffle, and the sudden intensity of Magnus' gaze was like sunburn on his face. Alec was paralytic. He wasn't functioning anymore.

“If you have to go,” Magnus whispered, every syllable wobbling on his lip, “I understand.”

A hand dug into Alec's chest, snatched out his heart, and turned it to dust.

“But just tell me why,” he murmured, turning away and rolling onto his back once more.

There was no _why_ , really. The situation had just steam rolled until it had become something else entirely – a cluster of doubt and indecision and angst and self-loathing. Alec hated that he had allowed something so tiny to become so _big._

Was this finally time to ask? Just like Jace had told him? Was this the only way, the last-ditch attempt? Surely, he had to try.

“The grey hairs Magnus,” Alec said, his voice the crackle of a log in a roaring fire, “the grey hairs that don't belong to me, or you, or the Chairman.”

“They _could_ be the Chairman's,” Magnus replied quickly, protesting, and Alec's heart sank. The empty humour, the acknowledgement of his part in this fiasco – Magnus had finally given himself up. This was his confession, at last.

“Only if he was part-Yeti,” Alec replied, trying to imbue his voice with bitterness, but only sounding miserable.

There was no silence in New York City. Outside, a million cars already skimmed along the tarmac roads, beeping and braking and accelerating, flipping off the thousands already walking to work, muttering and yelling into their mobiles, those walking their dogs, and eating early breakfast, those jogging in Central Park, and all the lonely people without homes to go to. In a city that was so full of life, why did Alec feel so dead inside?

“You're wrong,” Magnus declared, still staring at the ceiling. Alec turned onto his shoulder and stared.

“They don't belong to you, and they don't belong to the Chairman,” he began, and suddenly, without warning, he turned to look Alec directly in the eyes, his own wet with tears, and gave the largest, most elated smile Alec had ever seen on him. Suddenly, Magnus' warm hands were on Alec's face, caressing every inch of skin he could reach, and he was crying with what Alec could only describe as pure delight.

“They're mine.”

Alec's heart stopped beating...

_One, two, three, four..._

And then finally started again.

“You're not...” he started, unbelieving of what was happening, “You didn't give up...?”

Magnus shook his head, his eyes closed, and Alec breathed a sigh of relief. He might have wanted it when he was young, but he could never ask of it now. He didn't want Magnus to essentially commit suicide for him. They were never meant to die for one another.

“What did you do?” Alec asked, Magnus' smile infectious, though he had no idea what was happening. All he knew was that Magnus was holding him, and speaking to him, and smiling like he always did when they spent their most intimate moments together. There was not a sight more beautiful in Heaven, let alone on earth.

“Darling, I'm a Warlock, and I did what Warlocks do. I cast a spell,” Magnus said, every word punctuated by a laugh that he could not control. He couldn't believe that this had been the cause of their estrangement – it had been intended to keep them together. It was ridiculous that either of them had let it get this far.

Magnus reached for Alec's hand and stroked the band over his ring finger.

“I was going to tell you when we married; I started it a long time ago, knowing that one day we would. It was supposed to be a wedding present, from me to you. Though we've never done what we were _supposed to_ , have we Alexander?” Magnus explained, and hearing his name in Magnus' mouth was like being drenched in a warm ocean and soaked in oils and cologne. He moved closer to Magnus, curling up inside of his arms, liberated in his ability to finally return there.

“Tell me,” he commanded softly, “I don't think waiting would be the best idea right now.”

Magnus smiled down at him, and almost hesitantly kissed his lips for the first time in a week. Alec was instantly home – he couldn't believe he had contemplated leaving. Where would he go, apart from here? There was not a place on the planet where he would feel so safe, so cherished, and so, _so_ loved.

“It's part enchantment, part Glamour; I took some inspiration from your abilities, your runes” Magnus began, and Alec had never been so desperate to hear someone speak in all of his life, “I could have done it without the spell itself, but it would have been exhausting to maintain, and there's no telling that I would be able to temper the magic itself, or be able to control its pace. I had to have Catarina around, and we may have summoned a few...demons- Don't look at me like that,” Magnus said, interrupting himself, and motioning towards the disapproval on Alec's face at the words _summoned demons_ , “It was all for you. Can't you see? It was all worth it, because it was for you.”

He looked at Alec as if he were seeing him for the first time, as if he were bewildered by how much he loved him.

“I tied my life force to yours, my dear,” Magnus expounded, “I linked myself to you, from then until the moment that one of us dies.”

“Did you...marry me? Without asking?” Alec asked, almost scandalised, but mostly tantalised by being so close to the truth.

Magnus chuckled, his breath warm on Alec's face. “I married you, in a spiritual way. My apologies.”

“What does that mean though?” Alec asked, still confused by what this connection meant for Magnus.

“It means that as you age...I age. As you start to get wrinkles, I start to get wrinkles. As you start to slow down, I start to slow down.”

He beamed.

“As you start to go grey, I start to go grey.”

Alec stared, open-mouthed.

“Although I hoped that you might at least have had the decency to do so first Alexander,” Magnus admonished, pouting slightly, and glaring a little at the strand of hair dangling in his eyes.

Though absolutely shell-shocked, Alec's mouth asked, “How would it be decent of me when I didn't even know? Magnus...”

“I was joking, my silly Nephilim, the love of my goddamned life,” he said, starting lightly and progressing to a possessive moan, “I know how concerned you were about the way you would age, about how different we would become. Izzy always used to talk to me about it too, and I trust her almost as much as I trust you, darling. So I thought I could solve the problem before it started to exist.”

“But will you not age to look four hundred?” Alec asked, startled by the idea that Magnus could have given up far more than he intended, “How will this not kill you?”

“Because I've bound my life to yours,” Magnus said simply, clutching Alec's hand in his own, unable to let go, “We'll do it all at the same pace. We'll do it _together_.”

He paused.

“ _Always_ together.”

“What happens when I die?” Alec murmured, resting his free hand on Magnus' hip and stroking circles with his thumb.

“I'll return to how I looked at the time I first cast the spell,” Magnus admitted, biting his lip, “But know this, Alexander Lightwood. It will never happen again – this is a once only kind of deal. You, and only you, are the man that I will grow old with.”

Alec kissed him hard and deep, clutching onto Magnus' hair, his eyes scrunched up tightly. He was burning on the inside, lighting up in flames, and he passed it onto Magnus like a wildfire. He kissed him like an addict, like a lover, like he was the man he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Magnus' skin was warm beneath his, and Alec explored the contours of his face with his lips, kissing his cheekbones and his jaw and his nose and his forehead, and down his neck, and across his collarbones. He could have kissed every inch of Magnus' body – Magnus' body that would be changing and evolving for the first time in four centuries. Because of _him_. Because Magnus loved him enough to do this.

By the Angel, Alec thought, he must have been picked especially by the gods. No man deserved this much. And yet he had been awarded it.

“I'm quite interested to see how we'll do this with dodgy hips in fifty years time,” Magnus remarked, a hand holding lightly onto the back of Alec's neck. He kissed the space between the Shadowhunter's eyebrows, and Alec sank into the mattress next to Magnus, exhausted by weeks of sleepless nights.

“I don't ever know how I'll repay you for doing this,” Alec whispered into his neck, “How I'll ever be able to tell you how much this means.”

Because it wasn't a little gesture. It wasn't flowers for an anniversary. It wasn't sex at the weekend. It wasn't waiting up all night for him to get home. It wasn't making dinner (or stealing it). It wasn't the small things that meant the whole world to Alec. This was possibly the biggest decision Magnus had ever made. And it had been done to make him happy.

“Just stay with me,” Magnus replied quickly, his words almost a beg, “Just promise me you'll stay with me.”

Alec kissed him slowly. “How could I ever leave you?” he sighed, “How would I ever live apart from you?”

New York City, it seemed, was listening, and for a few minutes fell silent to accommodate them. They spent the quiet time they had exchanging lazy kisses, soft embraces, gentle words that healed the wounds they had unintentionally inflicted upon one another.

“It doesn't hurt that I've always been curious about how I would look a little older. It'll be nice to not constantly be ID'd on those rare occasions that I pay for alcohol as well,” Magnus piped up, snuggling under the duvet with Alec as if they were building a fort. “Catarina's going to spend the next sixty years making fun of me though – she called me _sentimental_ ,” he added despairingly, and Alec laughed at that too. He would have to send her a gift of some kind, something to thank her for helping Magnus do this. Alec did not underestimate the sheer strength of magic, the complexity and might that must have gone into creating a spell so powerful – one that had not existed until Magnus chose to love him forever. How strong was their bond, that he had created something entirely new just for them?

“I can't wait to see Jace's reaction,” Alec joked, and Magnus blanched.

“I can forgive _you_ Alexander, but if that beast of a brother of yours doesn't go grey before me, I'll have to do something unspeakable to him,” he threatened, his eyes glimmering gold before returning to their usual chartreuse green.

“He stuck up for you, you know,” Alec replied, “When I doubted you. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for letting this whole thing wind me up so far that I almost tore us apart.”

“Good man, I always did like him, even if he could be an annoying little pri-” Magnus mused, biting his tongue at Alec's raised eyebrows. “But if you hadn't reacted that way, my dear, you wouldn't be the Alexander I know. You wouldn't be the Alexander that I'm going to finally grow up with. You wouldn't be the Alexander I'm going to marry. Trust has to be earned, and no matter my intentions, I lied to you. I won't do it again,” Magnus said remorsefully, and it was apology enough to mend Alec's bruised heart.

“I love you, so much, Magnus,” Alec said, and Magnus smiled serenely back at him.

“I love you too. I waited four hundred years to love you,” he replied, kissing Alec's lips, always grateful to whatever power may be that he had been granted this man, “And I always will.

Even when we're old and grey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone who has supported this story!! I've never done multi-chaptered work before, and it means so much that you've commented and speculated (and kudos to the people that did get it - I know there were a few of you who were close!!). I've honestly loved writing this so much, and I'm sorry it got so angsty!! I thought it would but I did try to keep it light I promise!!!! Kisses to all of you amazing people.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to speculate...


End file.
